


The Way of the Catwalk

by Thisisentertaining



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, But it also takes place on Roshar, F/M, I couldn't commit, Kinda, Like theres modern technology, Models, Modern AU, tv competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 12:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thisisentertaining/pseuds/Thisisentertaining
Summary: Adolin Kholin is ecstatic to be accepted into a televised fashion competition. However, a bet with Jakamav could make things much more difficult than he would have anticipated.A meld between a modern AU and canon Roshar elements. Basically, I needed television and internet, but otherwise kept it in Roshar.Also men can read.





	The Way of the Catwalk

**Author's Note:**

> A meld between a modern AU and canon Roshar elements. Basically, I needed television and internet, but otherwise kept it in Roshar.  
> Also men can read.  
> I know, I should have commited one way or the other, but I think this will suit the story and characters best. Sorry if it's confusing.

Jakamav accepted his wine with a wide grin to the waitress that was returned with a well-practiced, if insincere, smile in reply. Adolin accepted his drink with a smile of his own, though he kept his eyes on his friend.

“I hear congratulations are in order, you made it onto the show.” Jakamav said, turning up the collar of his green sportscoat.

“Finally,” Adolin said with a broad grin. “I think they’ve just been trying to get a name for themselves before calling in the real stars. Smart if you ask me, every other season of ‘The Look’ will pale in comparison after they see what I’m capable of.”

The Look was a competition-based reality show highlighting the best and brightest upcoming fashion designers and models in Roshar. For 10 weeks designers would be given a particular theme for inspiration for a single outfit that their models would wear down the runway, with one team getting eliminated each week until the three best would have a full show. The fairly new show was quickly gaining in popularity boosted by live online audience voting. This year they were trying to become more interactive than ever as the competitors were tasked with staging and photographing a photo shoot to promote outfits for side-challenges. The pictures would be posted to social media for the public to vote on, with the winners given an advantage in the next challenge. As a model, Jakamav knew very well what the next few months would entail.

He looked forward to it. He knew that he was handsome, and that he wore clothing well. He was already growing a name for himself on the ‘best dressed’ lists at the kings banquets and other high society events. There was only one problem, well two really. First, none of the outfit’s he’d gained ‘best dressed’ notoriety with were designed by his girlfriend Inkima, and she was to be his designer for the competition. Second, Adolin really was good at what he did. He may not be as good as he thought he was, but he was good. He knew color better than Inkima, and he was more creative. He would be a great contender, a greater one than Jakamav really cared to go up against.

“And you and Inkima of course,” Adolin suddenly added, as though noting his faux pas. “With all of us competing at once, it will be a season to remember.”

Clunky recovery, lacking any poise or subtlety. Jakamav wished the highprince’s designs were as ill-refined as his politicking.  

“Of course.” Jakamav said, indicating to the waitress that they wanted another drink. “And I assume Shallan will be joining you?” That would be good at least. Sure the girl was pretty, but the man thought her hair wasn’t nearly as refined as the Alethi black, and her freckles may cause problems as well. She might prove difficult to dress well.

Adolin grinned stupidly at the mention of his girlfriend. Storms, but the man had it bad. “Yes, but not as my model. She wanted to be my assistant.”

Jakamav’s nose wrinkled in confusion. He never understood Shallan. What girl would rather be an assistant than a model? Didn’t all girls want to be models? All girls aside from Shallan, apparently. “An assistant? Really?”

“She is a master with makeup. You should see it sometime, she can look like a completely different person. It’s incredible. Plus, she’s good with lighting and stuff, she’ll be good for all of the… you know, new stuff. Who’s going to be Inkima’s assistant?”

“Danlan offered.” Jakamav took care to watch Adolin’s reaction at dropping the name of his ex so abruptly, but the other man was so caught up in thinking about his current girlfriend that he hardly seemed to notice. Oh well, the way Adolin went through women, they would probably break up before the third episode was through. Inkima would have the edge after that.

Adolin nodded and took a long draw of his drink to empty it as the waitress came with a pitcher. The man’s head was starting to bob to the music of the live band on the stage, likely already feeling the effects of the strong drink.

“And your model?” Jakamav asked, settling back into his chair.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking of finding someone online, maybe putting an add out at an agency.”

Well that was interesting. Jakamav wasn’t nearly as good at manipulations as his girlfriend, but Adolin was a fairly easy target. Maybe he could nudge the man a little. “Hmm. It’s not exactly fair though, is it?”

“What?”

“You, having the cream of the crop of models to choose from. You’re the nephew to the king, son of the Blackthorn the greatest martial artist of all time, a master duelist, one of Roshar’s most famous eligible bachelors even without the show. You could show models a sack and they would pretend it was an honor to model it for you. Even if the rules do state you have to use an amateur, you’re going to end up with the best of the best. No matter the other’s designs, you’ll have an edge.”

Adolin snorted. The combination of his euphoria at getting accepted, Jakamav’s compliments, the pulsing beat of the nightclub music, and the intoxicating wine was beginning to get to him. That much was obvious to the other man. It was making him overconfident, cocky. It was prime breeding ground for the manipulative Alethi brighteye. “Please,” The blonde-and-black haired man said. “I could make anyone look good, and I mean anyone.”

Jakamav scoffed. “We both know you say that, but you’ll choose some light-eyed beauty whose been practicing modeling for years.”

“No man, I’m serious. I could win with anyone. In fact, choosing an actual model may make the whole thing too easy. It would almost be unsportsmanlike.”

“How about we make this interesting then, eh?”

“Fine. Choose anyone here, anyone, and I guarantee I’ll win with them as my model.”

Jakamav grinned. This was perfect. He hadn’t been sure how Adolin would react to his prying, but this was perfect. A guarantee like that could mean only one thing: a bet. Jakamav was certainly a gambling man. The brightlord thought for a moment, what could the payment be though? Adolin was so confident, this could be an excellent moment for some political dealings. There was some tension between his house and Dalinar’s at the moment. Oh, but that was so boring. Also, if the stakes were too high even Adolin wouldn’t agree to the bet. Adolin swiped a lock of black-blonde hair out of his eyes and Jakamav grinned. That would be perfect.

“Fine then, I will choose your model. If you lose though, you have to shave your head.” Adolin gaped at his friend, completely aghast, and Jakamav grinned. This was probably actually higher stakes to Adolin than any kind of political subterfuge. “That is, unless you don’t think you can do it.”

The kholin bristled. “No, I’ll win with whoever you pick. When I do, you have to shave your head.” Jakamav froze. Maybe these stakes were too high. Adolin grinned at him. “Well? Pick your champion.”

Jakamav looked around and his heart began to sink. This is why he usually let Inkima plan stuff like this. Of course he would make this challenge in one of the kingdoms most exclusive clubs. No one could even get in unless they were rich, beautiful, young lighteyes. None of the clientele would have any issues being a fantastic model, and none of them would even consider passing up the chance to grow in the esteem of the Kholins. Who then, should he pick? Someone who he knew to be annoying and argumentative? Someone in his pocket that he could easily bribe? Perhaps a beautiful woman that would be sure to draw Adolin’s eye and hasten his and Shallan’s falling out?

Wait, was that- perfect. Jakamav pointed with a smirk. “Him.”

* * *

 

Adolin followed his friend’s pointing finger and froze. “The bouncer?” He asked, incredulous.

Jakamav was pointing at a well-muscled darkeyed man standing at the entrance to the club. The man’s stance bespoke of strength and aggression as he eyed the lighteyes in line to get in with a discerning gaze. His uniform, while well cared for, was obviously worn, as though he wore it every night because he didn’t own alternatives. His eyes were dark brown and what looked liked prison tattoos peeked out from where the tank top revealed his shoulders and back.

It was obvious that had he not been an employee, the man would not have been allowed within ten miles of the place without someone calling the police on the ‘ruffian loitering around the high-end district’. Worst of all though was his expression. It was as though a storm cloud had become trapped in the man’s face, dangerous and volatile. Adolin doubted that the man could do anything but scowl, he certainly was not the type to ‘smile for the camera’.

His friend grinned. “Yeah, him. I thought you wanted a challenge. Oh and look, he’s going on break now. You’d better hurry, this may be your only chance.”

Looking up, the highprince could see that the bouncer was being replaced with an equally intimidating man, though the new guy’s scowl could never compare to the original’s. Jakamav clearly wasn’t going to change his mind. Adolin stood and hastily began walking towards where the bouncer was headed, determined to beat the man to the employees only area.

The man was walking with a quick, purposeful stride, but wasn’t actively trying to hurry like Adolin was so the brighteyes managed to catch up quickly. The designer stepped in front of the man with a large smile, putting every ounce of charm he had into the expression.

“Hi, I’m Adolin. Nice to meet you.”

The bouncer gave him a flat look in reply, “I’m not letting your underage friends in, I don’t care how much you pay me.”

“No, no” Adolin laughed, “That’s not it, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

“I also have no interest in being the ‘darkeye’ notch on your headboard.”

“No!” Adolin blushed. “That’s not what I, no. You misunderstand. I have a proposition for you.”

“My answer stands.” The bouncer said, just as flat as the first time he spoke. “Also, no, I don’t know who you are and why you are so incredibly important. Nor do I care. I also don’t care if you complain to the manager about me. I’m hired here because I don’t give into the whims of lighteyes like you. I suggest you give up.” He tried to side-step around Adolin, but the highprince blocked his path.

“Please, just hear me out.” The bouncer sighed. He remained in the spot, though he did it with the air of someone dealing with a difficult customer and didn’t want to get fired. Refusing Adolin was one thing. Walking away from a lighteved customer who wanted his attention would be another.

 Adolin realized that this man would not be impressed by his charm nor his position. No, the plain, blunt truth would best serve him here. Though few other highprinces used it, Adolin knew what a powerful tool the blunt truth could be. It was what had interested Shallan at least. “I am a contestant on ‘The Look’ next season. Do you watch it?”

The bouncer raised one, unimpressed brown and Adolin deflated. Right. He didn’t seem like the fashion show type. The young lord coughed awkwardly. “Right. Uh, anyway, My friend and I just made a bet that he could pick anyone as my model and I’d still win the show. Loser has to shave his head. He picked you.”

“Then I suggest you find a nice hat.” The man tried to get around Adolin again, and the brighteyes started sputtering.

“But this is a chance to be on TV! It’s one of the highest rated shows of the year, you’d be famous!”

“I’d want that, why?” The man was scowling even fiercer now, which Adolin wouldn’t have thought was possible. He also didn’t have any idea how to respond to the man’s question. Why wouldn’t he want that? He glanced over at Jakamav in despair, but the other man just held two fingers up in a way that looked vaugly like a pair of scissors and pretended to cut his hair. Adolin grimaced.

“I’ll give you all of the prize money if we win! Every cent.” Shallan was going to kill him. Oh, Shallan, speaking of. “My girlfriend is kinda sorta related to Sebariel, the owner of this club.” Or not related. He was very confused about that relationship, but he’d long since stopped questioning Shallan. “I can guarantee that you can come right back to your job afterwards.”

The man’s dark look remained, and for a moment it looked like he was going to give another curt reply and walk off, but then he paused and looked thoughtful. The man sighed heavily, as though the next words were being rung out of him. “How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much is the prize money?”

“500 Ruby Broams. And we’ll win. I know it, I’m the best.”

The stranger looked physically pained by the boasting, but his lips moved and Adolin could almost see him making calculation on how much money he would have. “That’s two months, right? After that I get back to my normal life?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise. All the prize if we win, and your job waiting for you guaranteed.” The money would have been nice, but neither he nor Shallan really needed it. She was going to give him an earful, but it would be fine.

The bouncer sighed. “I must be a storming fool.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a single black and white business card. ‘Bridge 4 Bodyguards, Bouncers, and Catering services.’ Under the title was a single phone number. “Call sometime tomorrow. If I don’t pick up, ask for Kaladin.”


End file.
